Lucida
by tenrousei-kuroi
Summary: On Halloween night, 1981, Walburga Black learns just what her oldest son stands accused of. In a moment of blind action, she springs him from jail, his believed loyalty to the Dark Lord the perfect excuse to reinstate him...by force if she has to. And perhaps being stuck with Harry Potter as well isn't so bad as it sounds...
1. Prologue

**Title:** Lucida

 **Story Notes:** Woman, stop starting new crap when you've got like seventy-billion old stories to finish and two requests that still need done!

 **Actual Story Notes:** An idea that has been kicking around in my head for a long time. I have no idea if I'll actually continue it. Everything is laid out, but it depends on whether I have as much fun writing this as I thought I would.

 **Summary:** Walburga Black hears of Sirius's supposed betrayal of Lily and James. She decides to spring her son from jail and get her family's rightful heir back. Naturally, this wreaks untold consequences on the established timeline.

 **Warnings:** Some violence, language, etc. Probably no graphic incest in this one. Probably. Maybe. ...okay maybe still keep your eyes out (I'm a creature of habit). OOC behavior because that's sort of the point. Also some characters' ages are a bit off, specifically Regulus Black because I needed him to be younger than in canon.

 **Pairings:** Undecided, but you should probably take a gander at my other works and prepare yourself.

 **Characters:** All the main Blacks, Remus Lupin, Harry Potter, the Malfoys, the Lestranges, Lord Voldemort, and most of the Order members.

* * *

 **Prelude-**

Walburga Black had been laid up in bed with an atrocious headcold for nearly a week and a half. With her husband out of town visiting some foreign colleague, she was left with her youngest son, Regulus, to care for her. A task the boy had taken to with admirable enthusiasm despite his mother's rather toxic mood.

"Lemon tea, you idiot boy," Walburga snapped, shoving Regulus's hand away from her so hard that he nearly scalded himself. "I can't stomach the peppermint. You _know_ that."

"But Mother, you asked for—"

"Just do as I say, Sirius."

Regulus frowned. "Mother, I'm—"

"Why are you still here?" Walburga shrieked. "Bring me my drink!"

"Yes, Mother," Regulus sighed. He set off into the hall with half a mind to just keep walking all the way outside and out of town.

His mother had been confusing him for his brother a lot recently. He knew it was just a side effect of the virus and all the medications she was currently taking, but it stung nonetheless. He was the _good_ son, how could she mistake him for that traitor?

Regulus took his time in the kitchen heating up a new kettle of water. His mother was just going to scream at him either way, so he may as well bide some time and pray for her to fall asleep while he was downstairs.

Regulus turned on the radio. After a few seconds of crackling, a rather disconcerting melody filled the kitchen. A creepy base line with an almost ethereal melody wavering around it. Regulus was a few seconds staring at the radio in confusion before he remembered the date.

"Halloween," he muttered, a slight melancholy to his voice. All his friends were probably feasting at Hogwarts right now, gorging themselves on sweets and planning for a night full of parties...and here he was stuck back at Grimmauld Place playing nursemaid to his mother and her flu-addled, rambling demands.

" _Regulus!"_ Walburga's voice managed to carry through the house quite well and Regulus immediately clapped his hands to his ears.

At least she was back to knowing who he was again. No more of this _Sirius_ nonsense. It made him uneasy. What if some part of his parents really wanted Sirius back? He'd had his chance, and he'd thrown it away. Their name belonged to Regulus now...

"I'm coming," Regulus said, too quietly for his mother to hear him but it made little difference. He threw a new bag into the boiling water and set upstairs with a mug of lemon tea this time.

However, when he reached his mother's bedroom, he saw she had fallen asleep. He set her drink on the nightstand and charmed it with a wave of his wand, to keep it warm. He fussed about his mother's blankets for a bit, making sure she was well tucked-in and then returned to his own bedroom to sulk for the rest of the holiday evening with a bottle of his parents' Firewhiskey.

* * *

Walburga came around a few hours later, fever broken and still groggy, but immensely more clear-headed than before. Immediately she sat up.

"Regulus?" she called softly. She had vague memories of her youngest coming home from Hogwarts to care for her. When he didn't respond, she got out of bed and threw on some robes. She sauntered to Regulus's bedroom and knocked. No answer. She opened the door softly to see her son passed out on his bed, face buried in his arms. She frowned at the empty bottle of alcohol on his bedroom floor and an angry crease formed between her eyes. She had not raised a thief!

Walburga decided to confront her son later when he awoke and instead set about finding her shoes. Her sinuses were still jammed and she desperately needed some fresh air.

The muggle streets were not an option, obviously, so she threw some powder into her fireplace and sauntered into Diagon Alley, expecting it to be peaceful and dark.

Except it wasn't.

Walburga stepped out onto the cobbled streets in the middle of what appeared to be a giant party. The alleyway was packed. People were shouting, drinking, hugging each other...

Walburga blinked. Two men she recognized as married Ministry officials were actually kissing each other. A little girl with a handful of sparklers crashed against Walburga, nearly igniting her robes, and then ran off without a care.

And there was so much noise! Puzzled, Walburga fought her way through the throng of people and further down the street. Shops that should have closed hours ago were bustling with customers. Some even seemed to be having massive sales or giving items away for free. The ice cream parlor in particular had a throng of children packed inside it, none of whom looked to be bothering with money.

The sea of celebrating wizards seemed to be endless. No one recognized Walburga. People stood gormless in her way, forcing her to actually _touch_ them to push her way through, desperately searching for some uncrowded section of road.

Finally, near the tail end of the alley there was some breathing room. By no means was the area deserted, but Walburga was finally able to straighten her clothes and take a few deep breaths without being accosted. Then a group of people sitting under a gazebo outside the cafe caught her attention.

"Lysandra?" she asked suspiciously. She had not expected to see anyone of the Lestranges' caliber mucking about with all these partyers. Yet here the woman was, hand in hand with her husband and whispering urgently to him. Also sitting with them was none other than Walburga's sister-in-law, Lucretia. All three were midway through Italian sodas with a half-finished tray of coffee cake in front of them. Slowly, Walburga walked towards their table.

It was Lucretia who noticed Walburga as she approached.

"Sister!" she gasped, immediately silencing her group's conversation.

"Walburga!" Lysandra exclaimed. "Can you believe the news? It's unthinkable!"

Walburga cocked her head in confusion. By Lysandra's tone she was neither happy nor sad about some event...merely amazed.

"What do you—"

"Lysa!" Lucretia hissed, slapping at her friend's arm. Walburga stopped mid-question.

"What?" Lysandra griped.

"Show some consideration." Lucretia jerked her head in Walburga's direction. "Forgive Lysandra, dear, she's a one-track mind sometimes. Of course we're all in mourning for you." Lucretia got up from her seat and pulled Walburga into a hug that the Black Family Head did not return.

"What _are_ you people babbling about?" Walburga demanded, pushing herself free from her sister. Lucretia was undeterred and remained holding onto Walburga's arm, fretting about and nervously trying to smooth her disheveled hair.

"The Dark Lord, of course!" Lysandra finally admitted. "He's dead! I never would have thought it possible!"

"Dead?" Walburga asked, swatting Lucretia's fingers from her fringe. "Is that what all this is about?" She turned back to the crowded streets. The celebrating showed no signs of stopping. In fact the mass of people seemed to be expanding if nothing else. Walburga backed up a step and sneered a little in discomfort.

"Walburga, surely you've heard?" Lycoris Lestrange said cooly. He took an idle sip of his wife's drink. "Are you so helpless with Orion gone that you cannot even manage to read the news?"

Walburga was livid at her cousin's remark, but before she could answer, Lucretia chimed in again with her sickeningly high-pitched voice.

"Of course you poor thing, We'd hardly expect you to be joining in the festivities. You must be taking it very hard. Please, won't you sit with us?"

Walburga sat down, a little perplexed. They seemed to be expecting her to break down, but why? It was true that Walburga had been sympathetic to the Dark Lord's cause, an ideological backer of sorts...and she had been very proud of her Regulus when he'd decided to join the man's ranks the month prior...but she had not been all-invested in the Dark Lord. Quite the contrary. As of late, with the rise of Barty Crouch's insane counter-terror measures, she'd been starting to regret her fifteen-year-old son's involvement in everything, and had been secretly hoping for an opportunity to get him out of harm's way. If the Dark Lord was truly dead, then if anything she felt relieved.

Lysandra hollered to the waiter to bring Walburga a drink.

"Of course I didn't mean to be so coarse earlier, Walburga," Lysandra said earnestly, shoving a hot breve into Walburga's hands. "I'd forgotten in the heat of the moment, and I mean, you really can't blame me, can you? We're all still in shock to find out that he was even involved!"

"You did a fair job hiding that from us all, Walburga," Lycoris said with a hint of admiration in his smug-bastard voice. "You lot had us all fooled into thinking he belonged to those muggle-lovers. Imagine our surprise to find he was loyal to his family all along! It's a damn shame that it ended like this, of course. Waste of impressive talent."

The phrase 'muggle-lover' made something click in Walburga's brain.

"Sirius?" she asked in an almost inaudible whisper. There was a sudden sickness in the pit of her stomach. What had happened to him? Something horrible, it must have been! Oh, she had sworn he was no child of hers, that he could rot in hell for all she cared, that he was a failure, a disappointment and she wanted nothing more to do with him, shameful creature that he was...but she knew this feeling. Knew it intimately. It was the horrible swoosh in her gut the moment after Sirius fell from his broomstick but before he was caught by her levitation charm... it was the instant just before she realized he was lying limp in his crib because he was asleep, not dead...it was the small space of time in between hearing the healers say _your son was born premature_ and _but he's going to be just fine..._

It occurred to Walburga that Lycoris was still talking. Her hearing drifted in and out, a loud ringing in her ears, until she finally heard Lucretia yell, "Enough, Lycosis! It's obvious she has no idea what's happened!"

Walburga felt her mouth dry out. All three of them were looking at her, each waiting for the others to say something.

"What has happened to my son?" Walburga croaked calmly.

She narrowed her eyes on Lysandra, intimidating the woman to speak.

"Well...he is...well he was caught, Walburga. The DMLE found him at the house where He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was killed. They realized that Sirius had been working _for_ him all along and that he was the one who sent the Dark Lord to the Potters' home. He was their secret-keeper, you see, and he handed that information over."

"James Potter?" Walburga whispered. She remembered that boy and his mudblood girlfriend all too well. Sirius had been nearly inseparable from them for years. He'd even _lived_ with the Potter boy when he'd been thrown from Grimmauld Place. It made no sense to Walburga that he would have betrayed his worthless friends. Perhaps the Dark Lord had coerced the information out of him...?

"And then when they cornered him, he went berserk. The Dark Lord was defeated somehow by the Potters' baby, Harry. When Sirius realized what happened, he lost it. Murdered half the street in his anger, including that Peter Pettigrew boy he used to hang around with. Horrible temper, really...a lot like...well, never mind."

Lysandra trailed off, averting her eyes.

"What happened to him?" Walburga asked fiercely, fearing the worst. "Did they kill him? Did they kill my _son_? My _heir?_ I'll have their heads, every last one of them! Their entire department!"

The next thing she knew, she was standing, her mug broken on the ground, and screaming with an edge she'd ironically not used since she'd been yelling _at_ Sirius Black.

Her friends' eyes widened.

"N—not exactly," Lucretia said in a small voice. "He eventually went with them quietly. He's in Azkaban right now...at least I think he is."

"You _think_?" Walburga hissed.

"Well he'll not likely be there much longer," Lycoris said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "He's scheduled to be Kissed any minute now." He looked at his pocket watch as though it would somehow tell him if Sirius Black still had his soul.

" _What?_ " Walburga cried. "Right now? But there's not been a trial...!"

"A trial for a Death Eater?" Lysandra asked in bemused voice. "Did you really think Crouch would allow such a thing?"

"He was no Death Eater!"

"Oh, drop the act, Walburga. Everyone knows you wanted both of your sons to work for the man. It's unbecoming to denounce your oldest now just because he's been found out. Though I do still admit it was clever to have him fake his position so well..."

"That boy was incapable of holding his tongue long enough to fake anything!" Walburga screamed, but none of them were listening to her.

"Poor thing's distraught," Lucretia simpered.

Walburga whipped out her wand.

Lycoris raised an eyebrow. "What, are you going to curse us just for letting you know? For God's sake, Walburga, it's not been _our_ decision to sic the dementors on Sirius."

Walburga lowered her arm. She appeared to be thinking extremely quickly, shaking her head a little now and then.

"Where are you going?" Lysandra asked loudly as Walburga sheathed her wand without a word and stalked away. "Walburga, come back here! Don't do anything rash! What will Orion say when he returns home?"

With a crack something louder than was usual, Walburga Black disapparated away, leaving behind her a party still in full swing and a gazebo full of rather perplexed, pure-bloods.

 **-signed, tenkuroi**


	2. Azkaban Island

Again a warning: Canon events have been mercilessly warped and rearranged in this story, so if you see something that seems 'not right', I assure you it was likely on purpose. Also 3,500 words is sort of a pitiful length, but it just didn't work out to anything longer, which upsets me :/

* * *

If Walburga had thought the Ministry would be any less bustling than Diagon Alley had been, she was very wrong. The entrance hall was jam packed with the same ilk of prideless loons, throwing their hats into the sky and practically necking each other in joy. The only upside was that the indignity of it all allowed Walburga to be less concerned with her own, slightly disheveled appearance. She drew her wand out, ready to hex anyone who inadvertently impeded her on her way to the Auror department; she likely didn't have much time.

Briefly Walburga toyed with the idea of first trying to contact the Department of Magical Law Enforcement before abandoning the idea in favor of Crouch's Aurors, knowing that they were more likely to have been dispatched to deal with a "Death Eater" and also knowing that Susan Bones, the current head of the DMLE was likely to be out in the entryway celebrating with the rest of her useless department.

No, if anyone were going to be sitting out the festivities in favor of taking care of business, it was Crouch.

"Can I help you with something, Ma'am?" asked the bored-looking intern at the desk outside Crouch's office. Walburga eyed the girl with disdain. She couldn't have been more than seventeen or eighteen, and had a defeated look on her face that suggested she'd much rather be hobnobbing with the rest of the Wizarding world but had been disallowed that frivolous privilege, probably by Crouch himself.

"I need to speak with your boss," said Walburga shortly.

The girl sighed wistfully, staring off down the empty corridor in the direction of the music and laughter and noisily clacking gum in her teeth. She looked back up at Walburga and sighed again. "When did you need to meet with Mr. Crouch?" she asked.

"Ten minutes ago," Walburga hissed. She was little in the mood to deal with any teenaged apathy at the moment.

The girl blinked, looking affronted. "Well I"m sorry, Ma'am, but Mr. Crouch isn't here right now. So you'll have to set up an appointment with me—"

The girl cut off abruptly and crossed her eyes, trying to focus on the wand tip jutting into her cheek. A strangled squeak seemed to suggest she had swallowed her gum.

"Where is he?" Walburga asked harshly. "Azkaban?"

"I—I'm not at liberty to...actually, yes, he is. H—how did you kn—?"

"Send word to the prison that I am coming there. Tell them to cease whatever they are doing and meet me at the gates or there will be hell to pay."

Walburga withdrew her wand and stowed it away, preparing to disapparate again.

"No, Ma'am, you can't go to Azkaban Prison without a signed document from the warden, and she'll not grant you one of such short notice, seriously!" The girl tried to appeal to Walburga but was met only with a harsh, bark of a laugh.

"Idiot girl, did I _ask_ you to send them an owl asking for _permission_? I told you to tell them that I'm on my way. Now." And again she was gone. Whether or not Crouch's assistant actually sent the warning was not hugely important to her, though it would speed things up if she had.

* * *

There was no entering the gates to the prison without permission from inside so Walburga apparated to the stony path that led from the docks to the high, iron gates.

The island was freezing, as usual. Walburga had been here plenty of times before for reasons ranging from the business mundane to the slightly illegal, and she did not feel intimidated by the prison in the slightest. If she acted like she belonged here, then no guards would give her trouble.

The strong wind that constantly blew the waves up over the rocks and pitched salt around in the air would have chilled Walburga to the bone had she not been so distracted by her own determination.

Walburga raised her wand once again, preparing to send word to the prison that she was here, but immediately sheathed it again when that proved unnecessary. It seemed the incompetent intern had managed to send a quick message after all, and jogging down the slope to the gate were none other than Barty Crouch and Azkaban's warden herself.

"Crouch, Jones, how wonderful to see you," Walburga sneered. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she wasn't quite sure what she'd do if she was too late. Suppose they had already ended her son's life?

Crouch did not seem surprised to see her. "Ms. Black," he said in a low voice. "Michelle and I thought you might show up..."

Walburga stared harshly at the warden through the wrought iron. She'd never had much respect for the woman, an immigrant from somewhere in North America (the United States, perhaps, or Canada, though it hardly mattered), and it infuriated her to no end to think that Jones had teamed up with Crouch to try to administer the Dementor's Kiss on Sirius Black too quickly for Walburga to intercede.

"And yet you were not inclined to wait for me...or notify me in any way, I see," Walburga said, hoping her sniff passed off as disdainful rather than sickly as she fought the overwhelming desire to sneeze.

"Yes, do please forgive us. Everything has just been so very...hectic, that we may have gotten a tad carried away," Crouch said, insincerity dripping from his apology. He tapped his wand, unlocking and swinging open Azkaban's front gate. "I take it you'll be wanting to see your son first. Will we be waiting on Mr. Black as well?"

Walburga surged past Crouch and Jones, and stalked angrily up the stepway. Both Ministry officials started and then hastily tried to catch up.

"Your use of the word 'first' concerns me, Crouch," Walburga shouted back at them. "Because it gives the impression that you still intend to sic your guards on my son after I'm through talking with him, which I assure you, will not be happening."

"Ms. Black, you do not have the authority to override the law—"

Walburga turned around sharply. "And the law does not have the authority to surreptitiously sentence people with no trial nor hard evidence, so I'm hardly overriding the _law,_ now am I? More like overriding your insubordination."

They entered the prison, Walburga following Jones through the lobby and down the first dark hallway, and Crouch trailing behind her, still arguing.

"A trial would be a waste of time and government money, Walburga, he was caught at the scene."

Walburga bristled at the use of her first name.

"Many people were found at the scene from what I heard. My son was just the only one still alive."

Crouch frowned. "We cannot and will not pin this on someone else. Who else would we even have to blame?"

Walburga flipped her hand up over her shoulder in exasperation. "I don't care, Crouch. Use your imagination. Make Pettigrew your fall guy if you have to, but I want my son's name cleared, and I want him sent home." Jones stopped outside a heavy steel door. There were no windows, but a clear, painful cold was seeping around and out the door's edges; there were undoubtedly Dementors inside. Walburga's heart began to race and she reached for the door, certain that her son would be behind it.

"He's a danger to the wizarding world!" Crouch yelled, grabbing Walburga's forearm and pulling her around before she could open the door.

Walburga hissed and ripped her arm free.

"I will not be bullied by your family like everyone else is," Crouch insisted, his toothbrush mustache quivering. Jones stood off to the side, scratching nervously at her arm.

"Walburga, listen to me. I _know_ you might find it hard to believe, but Sirius Black is guilty. There is simply no other explanation. Dumbledore was here about an hour ago."

Walburga narrowed her eyes. "It makes no difference to me what that blasted fool thinks."

"But he knew the Potters, Walburga, quite well, in fact. He told us that Sirius was their secret-keeper," Crouch said seriously. "There is no one else who could have led the Dark Lord to their hiding place."

This revelation didn't have the effect on her that Crouch had expected.

"So I've already been told," said Walburga coarsely. She paused to cough into the crook of her arm. Of all the moments to start to feel sick again!

"Then you must realize that he is guilty!"

Walburga felt a slight twitch in her heart. If Sirius had really been working for the Dark Lord this entire time...could it be possible that he was far cleverer than she had ever given him credit for? Had he been able to play both sides? Walburga would never have suspected it but then again...Sirius had always been, regretfully, the sneakier of her two sons, though admittedly that was a title fairly easily won.

"What little difference that makes now, Crouch. You failed to prove his guilt legally. There'll be no grounds for a retrial after this fiasco. Did you really think you could get away scott free with this sort of vigilante justice? That we would all bow gratefully to you for protecting us and simply _throw_ the Minister position at you in our overwhelming gratitude?"

Crouch's face faltered a little, but then he gathered himself. "You cannot threaten me, Walburga Black."

"Threaten?" Walburga asked innocently. She turned to smile at Jones in a conspiratorial manner, a move that unnerved the woman so badly, she actually reached for her wand. "Who said anything about threatening?" Walburga reached behind her and murmured the most powerful unlocking spell she knew. She heard the heavy door latch click against her cold fingers. "I was merely informing you, _Mr. Crouch_ , that if you were looking for some miracle to undo your recent...shall we say _drop_ in popularity...murdering my son is not the fastest way to go about that."

Crouch's eyes bulged at the mention of his son, a suspected Death Eater who was awaiting trial in a Ministry holding cell at that moment, having been found in the company of some sordid individuals a week prior.

"If you're implying that you can blackmail me into bending the law for you, Walburga, you are going to find yourself locked up in here as well!"

Walburga leaned heavily on the door handle, but didn't open it yet. "For the umpteenth time, you brainless imbecile, I said nothing of blackmail. How could I possibly influence you with information that the whole of Britain is already well aware of? I was merely helping you remember that a person like myself is much more useful as an ally should you find yourself...wanting something."

"What?" Crouch asked. Was Walburga Black trying to bribe him? Before he could force her to elaborate, she had thrown open the door, which slammed into the wall with a visceral crunch, and walked hastily inside.

Walburga had never been in this room before, but it was immediately obvious what it was for. There was nary a piece of furniture in the barren place save for a single restraint chair along the center of the back wall, in which sat a shaking Sirius Black an enormous dementor on either side of him. One gliding idly back and forth, the other remaining ominously still, a skeletal hand pressing down on Sirius's shoulder in an unnecessary move of restraint; Sirius was already tied tightly to the arms and legs of the chair.

Walburga shook Crouch off again and approached her son, who had been glaring up at her in anger since she'd slammed open the door.

Jones followed them in. "You can leave us for a moment," she said in a low voice, coaxing the dementors away from Sirius. They refused to leave the room, however, and instead hovered about the door, as if to block anyone from removing their meal from their sight.

Walburga shuddered as they glided past her, but collected herself quickly.

"Sirius," she said shortly, staring down at her son. It had been a long time since she'd last towered over him like this. He had truly started to grow into a handsome man, though at the moment he was dirty and pale, his hair greasy and his eyes dull.

Sirius gritted his teeth and refused to answer her. He was struggling to remain vindictive; it was obvious he had been in the presence of the dementors for too long to control his shaking.

"Well aren't you going to greet your mother properly?" Walburga asked sweetly.

"Thought I was no _son_ of yours, you miserable, fucking banshee," Sirius spat.

Walburga slapped Sirius, more out of instinct than anything. His face was so cold to the touch that she felt his might shatter like ice.

"Is that anyway to talk to me when I've come here to bring you home?" she asked, grabbing Sirius by the shoulders to force him to look at her.

"Home?" Sirius nearly choked on the word. He thrashed a bit in his mother's grip and managed to spit a mouthful of blood onto her wrist. Walburga sneered in disgust and slowly wiped the mess off on Sirius's cheek.

"Yes, _darling_ , home."

Sirius shot Walburga a look of pure contempt. "I said I would never step foot in that house again and I meant it. Get the fuck away from me, woman, I want nothing to do with you! And we both know you and that old fuck want nothing to do with me!"

"Oh your father will come 'round once he hears about your little show last night," Walburga said softly. "He's going to be so proud of you when I tell him what you did. How you fooled everyone..."

Sirius let out a vehement exclamation. "What are you saying?" he roared. "You think I was on His side this whole time, don't you? You think _I_ betrayed my friends? I would never! It was that fucking _rat_ , Peter Pett—"

"Shh, yes, yes," Walburga crooned. "Pettigrew did it, and you were just caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, weren't you, Sirius? That's the new story, isn't it, the one that everyone will know come lunchtime, right?" she turned to the warden, who only gave her a nervous look, and then to Crouch, who vehemently shook his head.

"I told you I'll not be fabricating any evidence to get your son off the hook, Black!" he yelled, a small vein in his temple looking ready to burst.

Walburga only smiled. "You father and I will work it all out, Sirius, and you can come back. The whole family's going to be ecstatic."

"Sod off," Sirius snapped. "I'd rather be dead than back in your clutches."

Walburga heaved a dramatic sigh. "Oh, you can't mean that, baby dog," she simpered, brushing her long nails through Sirius's fringe. He weakly thrashed to try and escape her touch.

"If you don't come home with me, what will I tell your brother?" Walburga asked sadly.

Sirius blinked at the mention of Regulus. "Tell him his spot as heir is secure, because I'm _not_ going home with you!"

"He'll be heartbroken," Walburga continued. "After I already told him his big brother was coming back...that he didn't _hate_ him after all..."

"I never said I hated Reggie," Sirius hissed. "But I'm not going back to that house for that obnoxious little brat and I'm sure as shit not going back for _you!_ So leave me alone already!" Sirius felt uncomfortable with his mother bringing Regulus into the conversation; it made him feel bad that he admitted his brother wasn't worth it to him to return to Grimmauld Place.

"Let me take you out of here, Sirius. We'll go home and you can tell Regulus all about how you played the double agent for the Dark Lord. You'll be his hero again..." Walburga whispered.

Sirius jerked violently in his bonds, cutting deep red lines into his arms and calves. "I _never_ supported that madman!" he screamed. "I _hate_ him. He's murdered my friends, my...Lily and James and...and I...and it's my fault, I..." Sirius trailed off incoherently and Walburga reached out to touch him again, only to be immediately spat upon again.

Walburga frowned. She hadn't wanted to resort to this, but she seemed to be running out of options. Coercing Crouch would be meaningless if she couldn't convince Sirius to leave with her. She could control her son...but not with witnesses. She needed him back at Grimmauld Place first before she could make sure he didn't run off again.

"Fine," said Walburga cooly. She shrugged when Sirius looked up at her in confusion. "Have it your way, then, you nasty, ungrateful little cretin."

Sirius eyed her warily. Walburga turned around nodded idly to Jones. "He's of no use to me, then. Let them have him."

"Ma'am?" Jones asked uncertainly.

Walburga raised her eyebrows. "Did you not hear me, woman? I don't want him. Let the dementors kiss him for all I care. I'll be taking my leave now."

Sirius's eyes widened and Walburga frowned to herself. Her son seemed alarmed at the mention of the Kiss. Could he possibly not have known why he was in this room? Had he thought he was here merely for an interrogation of some sort?

"W—wait," he stuttered. "I'm not here for that!"

"Don't be ridiculous, boy, of course you are," Walburga snapped. "Don't be so foolish."

Sirius shook his head insistently. "No, no, no," he muttered. "I've not had my trial yet! This is just...I'm just waiting here, I— _don't let those things near me!_ "

Jones had waved her dementors forward again and they approached Sirius eagerly.

"You've been afforded no trial, Sirius," Walburga said calmly. "And even if you were, did you really think you'd be able to talk your way out of this without me?"

"Yes!" Sirius screamed. "Because I'm innocent! I can explain what happened, I can, I- _get them away!"_

Walburga watched with mild interest as the two monstrosities seemed to argue with one another over who would actually get to administer the kiss. Eventually they made up their minds and the larger one leaned over Sirius Black, curling its hands around his neck and face.

The coldness in the room reached an even more intense level. Walburga even saw Crouch shivering. Sirius was screaming, most of it nonsense, and Walburga felt her stomach churn with anxiety until finally:

"Mum, _please!_ Get it off, take me away, take me _home!_ " Walburga's twenty-one year old son was sobbing like he hadn't done since he'd been a small child. "Don't let them!" his last words were muffled as the dementor's face finally covered his own.

Walburga had heard enough. "Crouch," she barked. "My husband and I will see to it that you're Minister by the end of the month."

Crouch blinked, suddenly putting two and two together. "Stop!" he yelled immediately to the warden, who, slightly startled, pulled the furious dementor off of Sirius Black. "Take those away," Crouch insisted, and Jones complied, having to pull out her wand at one point to force the dementors from the room. When she had disappeared into the hallway with them, Crouch turned to Walburga again. "Ms. Black...what were you saying?"

Walburga was by her son's side again, gently touching his shaking face, and this time, he wasn't resisting her. "Figure out what it will take to keep that Warden friend of yours from being any trouble and I think you'll find that there will be little resistance to you when the Wizengamot votes on the new Minister next week."

Crouch spared one last glance at Sirius's quivering form before he caved. "Of course," he said smoothly, and held out a hand for Walburga to shake. "Wonderful."

Walburga nodded.

"Will you be needing an escort to get him home safely?" Crouch asked, nodding towards Sirius.

"No," said Walburga curtly. She eyed Sirius with distaste. "Have his wand and any of his personal effects sent to my address. I'll return for him in a few days."

Crouch tilted his head and Sirius started to breathe heavily, trying desperately to make eye contact with his mother, who was avoiding his gaze.

"What do you mean, you want him to stay here?" Crouch asked.

"Yes," said Walburga simply. Finally she locked eyes with Sirius and spoke carefully and clearly. "Throw him in your worst cell. Set dementors outside the door day and night. Afford him no food or commodities. I have a few things I need to brush over at home. I'll collect him when I'm good and ready to."

"No," Sirius mewled. "Mother, wait...!"

"Probably round about Saturday or so," Walburga continued as though she could not hear him. "Thank you, Barty, for your cooperation."

* * *

signed/tenkuroi


	3. Preparations

Walburga debated with herself for a long while over how much to tell her youngest son. She was no fool; she knew Regulus would be furious. After all, in their anger and haste, she and Orion had told him he was their new heir, and he likely wouldn't take kindly to the news that Sirius would soon be reinstated.

It was more than that, though. Walburga would have to come up with a reason why she had seen fit to summon Sirius back home, and she would need to come up with a convincing reason why Sirius would _want_ to come back. The rest of the world would believe that he had been working for the Dark Lord, but Regulus might not fall for that. Or worse, he would take it to heart and decide to do something equally as dangerous to gain his parents' attentions back.

In the end she only told him the bare minimum: that Sirius was coming home.

"What?" Regulus asked in disbelief when his mother sat him down in the parlor the next morning. His head was still pounding from the night before.

"Drink your coffee, Regulus," Walburga said shortly.

But Regulus refused. "You went to the Ministry yesterday? What's going on? Did something happen?"

Walburga refused to elaborate. "Nothing you need to know about in detail right now. Just know that the war is over. Things are how they were before."

"The Dark Lord is dead?" Regulus asked cautiously.

"He is gone," Walburga said. "Drink your coffee."

"But I don't want Sirius to come home!" Regulus yelled. "You're going to just give him his title back, aren't you! What about me?"

"Regulus Arcturus, you will be more than fine, and I suggest you lower your voice unless you want to be returning to class in a glamor."

Regulus was immediately cowed. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I just don't understand. I tried to do a good job."

"Despite what you clearly think, Regulus, my decision has nothing to do with you. Your brother has proven himself to be loyal to us after all. He will be here when you return for Christmas and that is final."

Regulus looked at her in confusion. "I won't be visiting before then? Sirius is coming back and I won't see him for two months?"

"There is no need for you to miss any more of your education. You're returning to school within the hour. Now drink your coffee before I have to force it down your throat. I've put painkillers in it."

Regulus gave her a terrified look.

"You touch your father's private stores again and you will be very sorry."

Regulus looked down and his face reddened, but he finally started in on the espresso his mother had handed him. It was cold and tasteless by that point, but it did make his headache recede.

"I just don't understand why you want him back," Regulus murmured.

"Would you have had me leave him to have his soul sucked out?" Walburga snapped. "Is that what you want, Regulus? For your brother to be as good as dead? Have you no thought for your own _family_?"

Regulus's breath caught. "No, I didn't say that...what...what was he doing in Azkaban? Mother, what _h_ _appened_?"

Walburga did not answer her son. She had let that last sentence slip in anger. Regulus did not need to think Sirius had been working for Voldemort. He would be terrified of his own brother.

Walburga sighed. "Some things have come up."

"What things?" Regulus demanded. "Who killed the Dark Lord?"

Walburga bristled. "I don't know," she admitted. "I'm not sure exactly what happened. Things will inevitably become clearer to everyone later."

Regulus bit down on the sleeve of his sweater, a nervous habit he'd had when he was younger, and one he'd not slipped back into in nearly six years. "What's going to happen to us?" he asked.

Walburga blinked. "Nothing, darling," she said earnestly.

"We're not in any trouble?" Regulus asked in disbelief. "For...anything?"

"Absolutely not," Walburga said firmly. What Regulus had asked troubled her slightly. A Black should be more confident than Regulus was. More sure of their place in the world. How truly lucky she was to be getting Sirius back, for as disappointing as he had been in most other areas, he had never lacked talent, ambition, or sheer iron will.

"But I...I was..." Regulus faltered. "They'll come for me, won't they?"

Walburga took ahold of Regulus's left forearm and twisted it around, rolling up his sleeve as she did. "Were you yet marked?" She asked him, raising an eyebrow.

Regulus shook his head. "N—no, because I was still at school and it was too much of a risk that someone would see..."

"And had you yet partaken in any assignments?" Walburga asked knowing. Regulus had been involved for less than a month, and he'd never been gone for more than a few hours, and moreover, he'd never come home a crying wreck. Walburga knew that if Regulus had been asked to do anything serious, he would have reacted poorly to it and she would have noticed.

Again Regulus shook his head. "But someone else might have recognized me. Someone might tell them about me!"

Walburga stroked her son's shaking face. "No one would dare, Regulus. And even if they did, do you think your father an I couldn't sort it out?"

Regulus looked unconvinced.

Walburga frowned at her son's lack of confidence in her. "I literally grabbed your bother out from underneath a Dementor," she deadpanned. "I promise you I can keep you out of harm's way as well."

Regulus nodded, still shaking a little. "Provided I'm worth the effort to you," he muttered.

His mother chose to ignore his comment, though it did set off an alarm in the back of her mind. "Your brother is coming home again, Regulus. Everything will soon be as it was," Walburga repeated, trying to calm Regulus.

Regulus shook his head numbly. "How can that be, though?" he marveled. "He broke us, Mum. He smashed us into a million little pieces. How can things ever be the same?"

"They will be because I said so," Walburga answered. "When Sirius returns, I'll not have you bringing up any of the past five years. _Everything_ will be as it was."

"But—"

"No arguing, Regulus," Walburga insisted. "Sirius wants nothing more than to make up for everything. He's completely loyal to us. I don't want to hear of you trying to undermine him with talk of these last few years. It's all over now. As far as anyone is concerned, Sirius was and has always been a true Black."

"Won't you tell me what happened today?" Regulus begged.

Walburga shook her head. "If your father or I disclose anything else to you in the future then it will be at our discretion. You'll probably be hearing a lot at school, but I'm telling you right now to ignore what anyone but your father or I says. Just know that your brother got caught up in something and now is the perfect time to say he was with us all along."

Regulus shook his head. "Does Sirius even want to come home?" he asked in disbelief.

"Of course he does," said Walburga with a wide smile. "And he especially has missed you, Regulus. You were all he could talk about when I saw him."

"Really?" Regulus asked skeptically. Sirius hadn't even said goodbye to him the night he'd stormed out, and had made a mockery of him for the years they'd been in school together.

"Yes, sweetheart, your big brother loves you, and he'll see you at Christmas."

"Can't I see him sooner?" Regulus asked urgently, and Walburga couldn't help but smirk. Of course it took only the promise of Sirius's affections to melt Regulus's anger away. It came with a cost, though: by mid-December, Walburga would have to make sure Sirius truly was excited to see Regulus again. Her spellwork was good, but this was going to be complicated and she wasn't completely confident that she could make that deadline.

"No, Regulus, Sirius will need to get settled back in. So you need to go back to school and make sure you come home with marks that he'll be proud of."

Regulus bit his lip. It didn't seem to him that Sirius would care much about his grades, but he was too confused by this point to press the issue much further.

"You've class in half an hour, Regulus," Walburga mentioned. She stood from the couch and held her arm out to Regulus. "Now come with me, I'll Apparate you back to Hogsmeade. Your head of house will be waiting for you there."

* * *

Walburga spent the rest of the next two days detailing Sirius's room, deciding how much should be left untouched and what had to go. She could do little about the poster tacked up with permanent magic—at least nothing short of dismantling entire sections of Sirius's wall, however, most of the photographs were easily removed. James Potter and Lily Evans were dead, and Walburga could not risk removing them from Sirius's mind because the whole of the wizarding world had known how much he'd loved those disgusting creatures. She could, however, convince Sirius that he'd been faking it or that he'd had a change of heart somewhere along the line. For that to work, it was probably wise that Sirius not spend much time around any constant reminders of his connection to them, lest they stir latent emotions back up to the surface of his mind. So the pictures of James and Sirius messing around at Hogwarts went straight into the fire. So did various letters and notes she found in Sirius's drawers and in a lockbox under his bed.

The key to mind manipulation was leaving just enough of the truth in that the lines began to blur. Walburga spent several long evenings in her husband's study, drawing up spellwork plans and preparations. This was going to need to be precise. She needed people to believe that Sirius had been loyal to his family after all, but not to the degree that they would want to see him locked back up. Sirius had been cleared of all charges as Walburga had asked, but she couldn't have an heir who'd been drawn and quartered in the court of public opinion.

So it became a balancing act between coming up with a son who could simultaneously please his relatives and his fellow Gryffindor alumni. Oh, the red-robed little idiots would probably hate Sirius after this, but as long as they weren't out for his blood, everything should be okay.

And that of course meant she'd need to ensure that Sirius felt he had no culpability in his friends' deaths. Here Walburga paused in her work. She could go no further without Sirius in front of her because, to be honest, she didn't know how involved Sirius had been. A part of her truly believed him when he had yelled about being set up by his other friend, but it seemed so unlikely. What if he really had set James and Lily up to be killed?

Walburga shook her head. That was equally as unlikely.

"Really, though," she muttered to herself, letting her quill roll from her fingers. "Why'd you go down there to get him?"

Why had she gone? Walburga was uncertain of herself. She told herself that she believed Sirius had really betrayed his muggle-loving friends to the Dark Lord, and that he was truly her son after all. And if that didn't quite pan out, she'd also told herself, then the situation alone was the perfect opportunity to trick the world into _thinking_ Sirius Black had been a proper Pureblood after all.

Either of those two options was okay. Either one was dignified...proud even.

...but what if neither were true? She asked herself. What if Walburga Black had jumped at this opportunity merely because she wanted her son back...because she wanted to try again, and this time things would turn out right?

Walburga shook her head fiercely and knocked that last thought out. She set her work aside and blew out the candle before heading up to bed. Tomorrow was Saturday. Orion was due back in the early morning. She'd need to brief him on what had happened and then go collect Sirius.

* * *

Orion wasn't someone that Walburga needed to convince, unlike Regulus. He was as he'd always been, her partner in crime. He'd have done exactly the same thing had he been in his wife's position—in every regard but one.

"Crouch?" he asked with distaste. "You couldn't get out of this without catering to that imbecile?"

"I know you don't like him, but he's in our pocket now," Walburga insisted. She and her husband were seated at the dinner table, staring at each other over a plate of biscuits their house elf had brought in. "The wizengamot meets on Thursday. You and I should both be there, I think."

She spoke with such conviction that the matter was effectively closed.

"I don't like this," Orion griped. He ran his hand absent-mindedly across his chin. "But it will be worth it, I suppose."

Walburga nodded. "Kreacher!" she called and the elf came scurrying. "Fetch my travel cloak and hat," she ordered. "I'll be leaving in ten minutes."

Orion glanced at his wife. "Going where?" he asked.

"To get Sirius, of course," she said immediately. "It has been three days and I did order them not to feed him."

Orion frowned at that remark. "Well I suppose he'll be willing to listen to us if nothing else."

Walburga rolled her eyes. "Would you honestly have me attempting to alter his mind and memories—his very _soul—_ if he had the strength to fend me off. Trying that kind of work on someone who isn't near death could go horribly wrong. At the very least, he could potentially be strong enough to fool me, trick me into thinking he'd succumbed and then waiting until I let my guard down to strike out."

Orion nodded in agreement. "I trust you," he insisted. "I just wasn't aware is all. It's not as though I commonly commit Dark Magic on my children."

Walburga sat back in her chair, choosing not to call Orion out on his obvious lie. "That should work to my advantage, actually," she said idly. "My being Sirius's mother, I mean. These sorts of spells tend to have stronger effects if the caster is in a position of innate power compared to their victim."

" 'Victim?'" Orion asked in distaste.

Walburga smiled a little. "I know exactly what it is that I'm doing," she assured him. "I know it's...frowned upon."

"Right," said Orion. "I was thinking that I should be the one to go get him."

"Why's that?" Walburga asked. Kreacher had handed her her coat and hat and she was just standing up to put them on.

"Because I want one last go at him while he still remembers what a disappointment he was to us."

At first Walburga wanted to argue with him, or at the very least insist on accompanying him, but there was such a glint in his eye that she knew she wouldn't win this argument. A small pain sprung to her chest when she realized how very like Sirius her husband looked in that moment—eyes gleaming, a slight crooked smile that said he knew he had something wicked in mind...How disgusting it was that Sirius had taken after the both of them so closely and yet ended up such a failure to their family!

Walburga relented. "Fine," she said. She watched her husband slip back into his slender traveling coat and run his want briefly through his dark hair, straightening down what had been briefly fluffed by his flight back from Spain. "But remember that he has had a rough time of it this last week," Walburga added.

Orion twirled his wand loosely about his fingers. "In a few hours he's going to be looking back on the last few days with longing," he said seriously.

Then he left. Walburga watched him go in silence, and then made her way to the cellar, intent on replacing the bottle of alcohol that Regulus had stolen before her husband noticed it.


	4. Scrape the Slate Clean

Warning ahead for Sirius torture.

* * *

Sirius had never given much thought to Azkaban Prison before. After all, he'd grown up a Black, steeped in the knowledge that his family had enough wealth and power to evade most legal consequences. And then when he'd run away, he'd comforted himself with the knowledge that he was a _good_ person who was never going to do anything worth being sent to prison for. So that dreaded island had always been little more than a thought that occasionally passed over his mind. He'd known he'd never end up there.

He never thought he'd be framed, much less for the death of James and Lily. And suddenly now, those dementors that he'd never wasted a second thought on were preying on him day and night. The creatures made you sad, that was what everyone said, that they took away your ability to be cheerful...but Sirius had learned in the past few days that they were stronger than that.

The dementors hadn't taken his happiness from him, they had matched it. All Sirius's cheerfulness, contentment and happiness had been smashed together into a palpable ball, and attached at the other end via a strenuous band was an even heavier counterweight of depression and misery, tugging hard. He could _feel_ it's pull, and found he could barely move in his cell for fear that any pressure would snap that invisible band. Sometime during his stay, he'd laid down on the cement floor to lessen the pressure as more and more weight yanked at his mind, and he'd not stood up since.

Then one instant it stopped. The miserable feelings were still there, lodged painfully in his head, but they had stopped pulling, and an amazing warmth drizzled all over Sirius's body, and for the first time he remembered that he was nearly frozen. Cautiously, he opened an eye and was surprised to see how light it was. The clouds had parted from beyond his tiny window and a thick ray of sunshine was nearly blinding him. He blinked once and then slowly moved his aching hands out from under himself. He pushed himself painfully to his knees and that's when he noticed someone was standing in front of him.

Sirius inhaled sharply. Even sick and delirious from hunger he recognized that long, silver coat.

"Father..." he whispered. He was in no condition to question Orion Black's arrival. His mind was so jumbled that he couldn't even remember how much he hated the man. All he knew in that moment was that his father had brought with him warmth and an end to the dementors' hold. Sirius would have thrown himself at the man if he'd had the strength.

"Glad you've not forgotten me, Sirius," Orion said calmly. "I know how poor a memory you have for family matters."

Sirius creased his eyes in confusion. "Is Mum here?" he asked.

"No, just me."

Sirius wrapped his arms around himself and basked in the gentle tingling feeling of his muscles and joints coming back to life. He smiled. "You've come to get me!" he exclaimed.

"Yes." Orion nodded. Then he drove his knee into Sirius's throat hard. Sirius keened and fell sideways, hands scrambling to cover his trachea. "I'm here to take you back home." Orion continued in a serene voice. He knelt down next to Sirius's twitching body and nudged him onto his back. To his slight surprise he saw that Sirius, while he was now rasping with each breath, was still smiling contentedly.

"You made the dementors go away," he said gratefully.

"I did," Orion agreed.

"I love you," Sirius blurted out, his voice raspy from disuse and from his father's attack. He rolled onto his side and latched one hand tightly onto Orion's sleeve. "Will we go home now?"

Orion swatted Sirius's hand away. "In a few minutes," he promised. "But first, tell me Sirius, do you remember why I have to take you home?"

Sirius stared for a moment, almost mesmerized by his father's face. Those grey eyes staring down at him, somehow both dark and bright—the same eyes that Sirius had seen in the mirror each morning for two decades...Sirius shuddered as an almost painful ripple of warmth brought his legs back to life. Somewhere from the mess of memories and feelings mashed together in his brain, he could feel something start to move, as though the absence of the dementors was allowing his mind to separate back out into clear thoughts again.

"Answer me, Sirius," said Orion in a frustrated tone. "Do you remember why I have to come get you from here?"

"...Yes," Sirius insisted. He shuddered again and rolled back onto his back. "There was a mistake. I'm not supposed to be here. Mum said she would come get me."

"She sent me. She's busy getting your room ready for you back at Grimmauld Place."

"My room?" Sirius asked.

"Yes," Orion said, nodding. "You've not slept in it for nearly five years, Sirius. Do you remember why?"

Sirius blinked in confusion. He tried to think but it hurt too much. Suddenly he was hearing noises he had gone deaf to. He could hear the sea raging against the island, and the wind splattering dead leaves and debris against the stonework of the prison. Somewhere in his cell there was water dripping…

"You ran away, Sirius, don't you remember?"

Sirius flailed a bit but managed to sit up. "Yes," he said suddenly. "I do. I left because...because..."

"Because you were an ungrateful brat who spat on everything we gave you," Orion said angrily. "You betrayed your own family, Sirius, and slunk away like a coward."

Sirius shrank down a bit. Now that he was starting to acclimate to the dementors' absence, he no longer felt giddily warm. In fact, he was starting to notice just how cold it was in his cell. He also noticed that his father had left the door open behind him and that a witch in a guard uniform was standing watch some twenty feet down the hall, a keyring in her hand and her eyes respectfully averted.

Sirius started to shiver. Now there were some clearer pictures in his mind. He remembered screaming, fighting...running away and leaving most of his possessions behind. Suddenly he panicked.

"Mum promised she'd get me out of here!" he said loudly. "She promised. Father, you're bringing me home to her, right?"

Orion pushed Sirius away as he tried once again to cling to him. "In a minute, I said," he snapped. "But I need you to focus first. Do you remember James Potter?"

"Yes!" Sirius screamed. There were tears in his eyes now. "But I didn't kill him, I didn't! I was trying to warn him! I would never have—"

"Do you recall leaving us for him?"

Sirius stared at his father in confusion and Orion waited patiently, watching Sirius squirm. This wasn't all for his own personal vengeance, he needed to break Sirius before he brought him home. Walburga was a skilled manipulator, but things would go more smoothly if Sirius latched onto his parents. Orion could have just taken him home immediately while Sirius was still overcome with his initial gratitude at the departure of the dementors, but Orion knew the connection would be stronger if Sirius could come back to himself before breaking. It would be messy, but infinitely more effective than bringing Sirius home now or even attempting an Imperious Curse.

Sirius wiped frantically at his face. He mumbled incoherently for a while; there were a lot of things rearranging themselves in his mind. Then…something snapped into place.

"I hate you," Sirius said quietly.

"What was that?"

Sirius scrambled backwards, still too weak to stand, he scooted until his back hit the wall.

"You vile old _bastard_ ," he hissed. "Haven't you and that harpy tormented me enough?"

"But Sirius," Orion asked sweetly. "Honey, don't you want to come home with me?"

"No!" Sirius spat. "I hate you. I fucking _hate_ you! I won't go back to that place; you can't make me. I'm not like you! I'm _better_ than you!"

"There you are," Orion said with a smile. He whipped out his wand and instantly drew Sirius back to him. Sirius struggled fiercely but he had virtually no strength, and he was so hungry that most sudden movements sent his stomach into a frenzy of cramps. "That's the Sirius _I_ remember."

"What do you want?" Sirius groaned, feeling his heart rate skyrocket when his father seized ahold of him by the throat.

"I'm going to walk out of here with you in a minute, Sirius, and I'm not going to restrain you. I'm going to walk you out of this prison past a whole row of people who are waiting in the main office, and I won't be marching you at wandpoint. Because these people all know that you _want_ to come with me. It's what you want most in the world."

Sirius knew if his father got him inside their house it would all be over. God only knew what they had planned for him. It was looking as if Azkaban was his last chance to escape what would undoubtedly be a terrible fate. Orion saw his son's eyes spinning and knew he was frantically planning.

"So I need you to promise me, Sirius, that you'll follow me out of here willingly, with a fucking _smile_ on your face."

Sirius stared up at his father defiantly, but there was a note of panic in his heart. His memory had settled in full by now, and if there was one thing he remembered clearly, it was that Orion Black was very proper; he only swore when he was about to cause someone a world of pain.

Sirius warily eyed his father's wand, which was pointed directly at his heart. He watched Orion twist his wand a solid ninety degrees and mutter something sinister that Sirius couldn't hear through the pounding in his ears.

Then it was as though a vice had grabbed Sirius's lungs. His blood ran cold and his gaze flickered back to his father's face just as the squeezing started. Sirius felt the invisible vice compress his lungs. He couldn't draw a breath...it was as though a giant snake had him in it's grasp. Orion had let go of him by now. He wasn't even pointing his wand anymore. In fact, Orion had moved away from Sirius—just out of arm's reach—and was watching with disinterest.

The compression wasn't consistent. It would pulsate at times, allowing Sirius just enough freedom to gather maybe a third of a full breath before it bore down even harder. There was black flickering around Sirius's vision. A sharp pain in his lower back began to strike in time with the compression in his chest, and a part of him feared that something in his spine would break. His thoughts were no longer clear. They were still there...just less important. Sirius didn't forget how much he hated his father...but he did start to ignore it. He was dying, feelings were unimportant.

Sirius reached out to his father weakly, but it felt like his arm was pulled back to his chest by a magnet. Any moment his eyes were surely going to pop out of his skull.

 _Please,_ he mouthed.

Orion lifted his spell. It took Sirius a moment to realize, and even then he felt he couldn't move. All his joints seemed loosely fitted into place, ready to grind free of their sockets if he so much as twitched.

"There, see? I made it go away, you're okay..." Sirius flinched when he realized his father was stroking his hair. Orion rarely touched. And when he did it had never been anything comforting. Sirius tried to shrug him off.

"Are you ready to go home now?" Orion asked.

"Yes," Sirius said immediately, knowing when to cut his losses. He attempted a weak nod. "I'll do as you say."

Orion nodded, but pursed his lips. "You see, though, Sirius," he said softly. "The thing is...I don't believe you yet."

"No, Father—"

Sirius jolted his fragile body forward, trying to grab his father, but Orion soon had him under the spell again, and this time he took to walking slow circles around Sirius while he suffered.

"You always asked for so much trouble, Sirius," said Orion sadly. "You never knew when to behave. You never _learned._ Now look at where you've gotten yourself. I love you so much, Sirius, and I want to help you, but I can't yet..."

Sirius's eyes were watering so badly he could no longer see. He jaw had seized up and he couldn't scream, only whine desperately. Every once and a while, Orion would lean down to touch Sirius on the shoulder or the face, and each time, Sirius started and—despite the tight hold of his father's spell—managed to jerk away from his hand.

Then, much later than Orion would have like, Sirius finally showed no reaction to his touch at all. Orion lifted his spell and gave Sirius a moment to breath. Chest heaving, Sirius coughed and sputtered. Orion touched the back of his hand lightly to Sirius's shoulder and this time Sirius flung out both his hands and grabbed Orion by his forearm, pulling for all he was worth. He kept his eyes closed and spoke in sharp, little gasps.

"Please don't. I can't. Please. Please help me. Don't let it. Not again."

"Shh," Orion murmured. "Here, let me get you up." Orion pulled Sirius into a sitting position and let him rest against his chest. That had taken significantly longer than he had imagined. It seemed he had forgotten just how bull-headed his oldest son was. He was a bit proud of Sirius's resolve, even if it was ignoble in nature.

Sirius was done, though. He had no more fight left in him at the moment. Now Orion needed to get him home quickly.

"Stand with me, Sirius," he said five minutes later. "It's time to go home."

Sirius clung to him like a drowning man. Orion managed to prize him off, but then Sirius—shaking and swaying like a drunkard—wanted to hold his father's hand.

"You need to walk on your own, Sirius," said Orion impatiently.

"Don't leave me!" Sirius croaked as his father pulled their hands apart.

"I'm not leaving you, Sirius. I'm right here. Now walk with me."

Sirius was uneasy. The last two times his father had moved away from him, horrible pain had followed, and his body remembered that. When Orion took a few steps forward without Sirius, Sirius could have sworn he'd been cursed again. He nearly fell back down, only narrowly being caught by Orion.

"All right," Orion conceded. He placed an arm across the back of Sirius's shoulders. This had the added advantage of letting him discreetly prop Sirius up. "How is this?"

Sirius still took some convincing not to wrap his own arm around his father's waist, but eventually they started out of the cell. The woman from earlier was long gone. Some of the cells they passed had inmates in them, most of whom were laying limp on the floor, staring up at Sirius with envious eyes.

Then the cold started to creep back. Sirius glanced nervously behind him and saw a grey, fuzzy darkness falling at the far end of the hallway. Now that Orion was leaving, the dementors were returning. Sirius started to hyperventilate and Orion urged him to move faster.

"Here we are, through this door now."

The lights of the office were painfully bright on Sirius's eyes. His vision was so overrun by halos that he hardly noticed who he was shuffling past. He thought a few of them might have said something to him, but he couldn't make out anyone's words. For a brief moment he heard a man walking next to them, talking in low tones with his father. It sounded like Crouch but then again so did a lot of people.

Once they were outside, Orion was nearly dragging Sirius, and as soon as they stepped through the gate, Orion disapparated the two of them home to Grimmauld Place.

* * *

The first thing Sirius asked for when his father got him home was Regulus. His brain was such a jumbled mess, but he could remember that his brother wasn't frightening. Regulus was harmless...and weak. Sirius felt like he needed to make sure Regulus was safe. There was some basic instinct he had that said if he'd been hurt, Regulus was surely in danger, too.

"He's in class, dear," Walburga said quietly. "He won't be home until the holidays. Orion, how is he?"

Orion dropped Sirius into a parlor chair. Sirius tried to stand up, but immediately fell back down again, shaking. Orion shrugged his coat off and threw it to the house elf. "All yours," he said briefly.

"Where are you going?" Walburga asked; Orion was heading back towards the kitchen.

"To get some brandy," Orion admitted, not caring that it wasn't even noon. He rubbed ruefully at his arm where Sirius's desperate clawing had left several deep, red marks. "I'll leave you to it. How long do you think this is going to take?"

Walburga tapped the point of her wand. "I'll lay the foundations tonight. Then it's just a matter of adding in the details before anything he's exposed to contradicts them. It's going to be a balancing act."

"Why not just do it all tonight?"

"Because the shock could kill him," Walburga said dryly. Orion's eyes widened and he nodded.

"Call me if you need anything," he said in a tired voice. "If not, I'll be in my study."

"Mum?" Sirius asked softly after his father had left the room. "Where'd Dad go? He said he wasn't going to leave me behind."

"You're home now, Sirius," Walburga said patiently. "Your father's just in the other room."

"Where's Regulus?"

"...at Hogwarts," Walburga said firmly. She pushed Sirius down until he ran the length of the fainting couch, his head tucked against the armrest. His dark, matted hair blended against the black fabric.

Walburga sighed. There was no point in deliberating or procrastinating. Best to leap now get it over with.

"Drink this and close your eyes for me, Sirius..."

Sirius's mind was a beautiful thing. In it Walburga could see echoes of her own and Orion's as well. There was a certain finesse to the way Sirius's memories flowed together that Walburga had not seen outside her own family. Most people's consciousness were stamped together like a patchwork quilt folded over on themselves indefinitely; Sirius, like most Blacks, was more of a woven orb, like a single, silver strand of _mind_ had slithered all along the surface of a sphere and reconnected at its own base. No beginning, no end, no _edges._

Walburga touched Sirius's forehead lightly and his eyes rolled back in his head. She ran her wand gently to the base of his skull and pressed, looking closer. Sirius's mind was a marvel to observe, but consequently much more precise to work with. With no sides, it was harder to determine the continuity of memory materials, among other things.

Walburga murmured her words softly, but enunciated them carefully. It wouldn't do now to mispronounce something and snap Sirius's brain in half. She let a string of spellwork fall from her lips with an almost lyrical pace. Sirius convulsed violently and began to pant as his mother's spell gripped at his head and chest. There was something cold falling over his heart…

"Shh," Walburga patted him lightly. While her magic worked, she prodded into some of Sirius's memories. She left most of Sirius's childhood alone, and started instead at his final year at Hogwarts. It wouldn't do to change any memories that involved people who were still living, so she focused on memories of Sirius with James Potter and also times when he was by himself. She shuffled through each solid memory, one at a time, deciding which could remain untouched, which needed minor alterations, and which needed a complete overhaul. It was painstakingly slow going. It was easiest to change things Sirius remembered seeing and hearing, but changing how he had _felt_ was more effective, if draining on Walburga's energy.

When Walburga hit Sirius's graduation ceremony, she watched it several times, carefully re-threading the memory through her grasp to start it from the beginning again and again...she had not been there in person. In the end, she told herself that no part of that memory needed to be altered.

There was a temptation to go further, but Walburga knew better. Sirius had had enough. He was crying, despite his eyes being shut tightly, and his fidgeting was getting worse. If he started to thrash, her grip might falter, and something could break. No physical restraint would be strong enough to keep Sirius as still as she would need him if she were to continue working at that moment, and she certainly couldn't still him with magic. Mental spellwork tended to react badly to other incantations. Slowly, Walburga began to disentangle herself. She let the memories slide from her grasp and tried to stifle her curiosity.

"Walburga?" Orion had returned from his study. His voice drifted softly from the doorway.

Walburga stood from the floor where she'd been kneeling by Sirius's head. "Yes?"

"Did he do it?" Orion asked in an uncharacteristically small voice.

Walburga motioned to her husband to help her lift Sirius from the sofa. He was awake but far from truly conscious. His eyes were wide open again and obviously blind with fear.

"I don't know," Walburga admitted. She stroked Sirius's shoulder the way one might soothe the neck of a skittish horse. "I haven't gotten that far yet..."


	5. Interlude

Sirius Black blinked in and out of consciousness the whole night. Then, in the early time of morning, he awoke fully to a stomach trying to eat itself inside out. Groaning, he clawed at his cramping abdomen and tried to sit up.

At first he wasn't sure where he was. It was a clean, sparsely decorated bedroom with expensive furniture and drapery. Sirius raked his eyes along the white walls until he hit the door. The handle was pure silver…

Sirius narrowed his eyes and looked to the wall opposite the bed, where the one piece of art hung: Black ash melted and sculpted into twin warring greyhounds…

Sirius's already pained stomach did a flip. This was one of the spare bedrooms at Grimmauld Place. Cautiously, he slid out of bed, woozy and wobbling on stiff legs. He ran his hands over his chest again, vaguely unsettled by the nightshirt he had no recollection of putting on himself. Blinking slowly, Sirius began to rake over his mind, searching for the last few days' worth of memories. It all came back to him painfully, like the memories were raw and tender. Sirius clutched at his temples, moaning.

Lily…

James…

His mother…

Azkaban…

His _father…_

And now he was here. Try as he might, Sirius could not remember much of anything before arriving at Grimmauld Place from the island prison. Though he could remember that he had _wanted_ to come. Azkaban had been so awful and then he had been saved from it..

Once he had a handle on the ache in his mind, and he could stand a bit straighter, Sirius gave himself a more thorough once-over. He didn't seem to be injured aside from one hell of a bruise on his sternum, courtesy of his father the previous evening. He also didn't seem to be restrained in any way—magical or otherwise. Aside from his hazy memories, Sirius could feel no compulsions or painful restrictions on his thoughts or decisions and so ruled out the possibility of an imperious or the like, and when he timidly tried the door, it swung open easily.

Seeing no reason not to, Sirius set off down the hallway. He seemed to be on an upper floor. Grimmauld Place had not changed significantly since he had lived there and soon he found himself standing in front of his little brother's door way.

"Regulus?" Sirius asked softly. He felt worried. Something told him Regulus was not here, but he tried the door anyway.

It was locked and Sirius frowned. Regulus's lock had never kept him out before. Neither had the lock on Sirius's door ever denied Regulus entry. Sirius repositioned his hand and tried again, thinking perhaps the magic on the lock had faded, and it had forgotten his grip.

Still locked.

So Regulus had gone back and specifically barred Sirius from entering. That was new.

Sirius looked up a bit and saw a small plaque on the smooth wood of the door which read:

 _Do not enter without express permissions from Regulus Arcturus Black._

That was also new. Sirius's face contorted briefly with worry and he slunk off to his own bedroom. This room was locked as well, but not by the simple, coded lock that Sirius had put on it when he was twelve. There was instead a large padlock keeping a brace on the knob.

Now Sirius was more worried. He took the stairs down to the landing but stopped at the front door. The lights all around Grimmauld Place were dim, and the house bore no signs that anyone was home. He could probably explore a bit more unbothered, but part of him desperately wanted to get out of the house. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being held prisoner.

Breathing heavily, Sirius reached for the front door.

It didn't budge.

Somewhat frantic now, Sirius thrashed the door around a bit, even kicking it. Eventually the handle grew hot and Sirius was blasted backwards on to the staircase, where he landed painfully.

"Young Master is not to leave the house today. The masters say he is not yet well."

Sirius scrambled to his feet and peered into the kitchen.

"K—Kreacher?" he marveled.

It was indeed the unsightly little house elf that Sirius remembered. Kreacher scuttled out from behind the stove, a suspicious look in his beady eyes.

"Young Master is not to go wandering about," Kreacher repeated. "It would be best if he returned to bed."

Sirius ignored the house elf and instead turned his attentions back to the front door. "So I'm locked inside?" he asked viciously. "And I can't get into my own bedroom..." A thought occurred to him. "How many other rooms have I been barred from entering?"

Kreacher didn't respond.

"I'm serious," Sirius threatened. But Kreacher just stared back up at him balefully for a moment before shuffling away. Left alone in his parents' kitchen with a creeping feeling of alienation washing up his body, Sirius almost shivered. He had never before wished for the company of his little brother more. Regulus would tell him what was going on. Regulus would not refuse him answers, no matter what his parents were scheming. Regulus had always been more _his_ than his parents'.

It occurred to Sirius to check the fireplaces, thinking that he might have been able to travel via floo powder to...somewhere. Literally anywhere. But it was to no avail. He threw the powder into the main drawing room's fireplace and stepped inside, but no amount of yelling for different connected fireplaces yielded any results. Whether his parents' had found someway to code him _out_ of the floo network or if they had simply disconnected their own fireplace, Sirius couldn't be sure. Angry, and now covered in soot, he traipsed to the upstairs bathroom, intending to bathe. The bathroom, mercifully, was not locked to him.

"Does master wish to be run a bath?" Kreacher's voice startled Sirius midway through undressing and he nearly fell over.

"Don't sneak up on me like that!" Sirius snarled. "And no, I think I can handle it on my own. Get out."

Kreacher left him alone. Breathing heavily, Sirius turned on the shower. Part of him wanted to be really fast. He felt as though he were trespassing in someone else's home. How awkward would it be for his mother or father to come home and find him in here?

While he was anxious for answers, Sirius was equally as nervous about the prospect of seeing either parent again, especially his father. There was a spark of fear present in his mind that had not been there before, or at least it seemed not to have been.

While he washed what appeared to be a week's worth of dirt and grime from his hair, Sirius tried to piece together his situation. His chest and neck were still so tender that he found himself unable to bathe in hot water, opting for a lukewarm shower instead.

Now how had he gotten here? Sirius had almost painful holes in his memory. Recollections would flit in and about his mind, disappearing before he could get a good hold on them. It was like a severe case of presque vu, everything he _knew_ that he knew was flittering about just outside his recollection.

Wasn't he supposed to be at Hogwarts? With James?

No, that wasn't right, he'd graduated, hadn't he?

 _Hadn't he?_

He didn't live in Grimmauld Place anymore, surely. He'd run away, right? Except maybe not. He'd regretted leaving home...so much that he had come back? Or been brought back?

"Fuck," Sirius moaned, shutting of the water. He stared at himself in the mirror for a long while. It was like looking at a photograph. He recognized himself but this couldn't truly be what he looked like now, was it?

Why had he bee in prison in the first place? Something wasn't right. Sirius threw a towel around his waist and poked his head out the bathroom door.

"Kreacher!" he screamed. "Bring me some clean clothes!" When his parents came home, he was going to talk to them and he was going to get the answers he wanted.

... _hopefully Mother will come home alone,_ Sirius thought glumly.

* * *

Sirius had never been a lucky individual. Orion Black came home around lunch to find Sirius Black waiting for him in the kitchen.

"Sirius," Orion said curtly. He certainly didn't seem surprised to see his son awake, but there was a definite note of annoyance in his voice. "I didn't think you'd be up yet."

"Clearly you did," Sirius snapped. "Or you wouldn't have toddler-proofed all your doors."

"That was your mother, actually," Orion said. He threw his cloak across a chair and walked past Sirius to the cabinet, where he poured himself a brandy. "She's gotten a bit ahead of herself in the planning. You should still be sleeping."

"Fuck, Dad, it's 11am," Sirius snapped, eyeing his father's glass with distaste.

Orion approached him slowly. "Oh, I've nowhere else to be today," he said calmly. "I'm home for the day."

"Where's Mum?" asked Sirius, trying not to shrink under his father's gaze. "Where's Reg?"

"Your brother is at school where he belongs. You've been told that before..." Orion was now looking at Sirius curiously. Sirius shook his head.

"I don't..."

"You don't remember?" Orion asked. He shuffled about in the kitchen for a minute before bringing a small tray of leftover dinner to the table. "Sit down and eat this," he commanded.

Sirius shook his head again. "No, I..." He was starting to get a headache.

Orion pushed him into the nearest table chair and again insisted that he eat. "You might as well regain some strength if you're going to be up for a bit."

Sirius's spine tingled. "I'm not tired," he said, though it was a partial lie. He felt exhausted.

"No matter," Orion said. "Just eat for now."

"For...now?" Sirius asked, gingerly picking up some bread. "What about...after now?"

Orion raised an eyebrow but didn't answer. He seemed unconcerned with Sirius's question. "How does your head feel?" he asked. "Can you tell me what happened yesterday?"

"No," Sirius said hoarsely. He was nearly in tears. "I don't remember...what's going on."

"Hm." Orion poured himself another drink. "Well that's probably okay. I'll be in the drawing room. Come to me when you're finished eating. Don't make me wait long."

"Dad, wait," Sirius almost begged, but Orion left him alone in the kitchen and Sirius was too nervous to follow. He didn't like the way Orion was talking. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

When he was finished eating, Sirius strongly considered hiding from his father. Orion was clearly intending to put Sirius back to sleep and Sirius had no intention of submitting to that. But where could he go? Under the bed in the one spare room that was unlocked to him? No, there was nowhere to hide, and without his wand he had no hope of fighting off his father.

Fuck, he had no chance of that _with_ his wand, not with Orion's experience and Sirius's own fatigue. No, Sirius decided his best bet was to stall. Hopefully his mother would come home or something would happen that would distract his father.

Perhaps he could talk to Orion? Did he stand any chance of his father listening?

"I told you not to keep me waiting."

Sirius started. His father had returned to the kitchen in such a casual state of dress that he must have been telling the truth earlier—he truly had no intentions of going anywhere else that day.

"I..." Sirius was at a loss for words. "What are..."

Orion walked up to where Sirius sat staring up at him and grabbed him by the biceps. "Let's go," he insisted.

"W—where?" Sirius asked, unsettled. His father had never really been one to touch, had he? It seemed to Sirius that his father had never really been comfortable being close to him before, much less grabbing ahold of him.

Right? Maybe?

"To your room," Orion answered curtly. "Well...a room, at least. Sirius, _move._ "

Orion led Sirius back into the bedroom he'd woken up in, Sirius begging for a reprieve the whole way. When Orion tried to push him down onto the bed, Sirius found the rest of his strength and fought back for all he was worth. He managed to slip from his father's grasp but Orion shipped out his wand and slammed the door shut before Sirius could dash out it. Sirius heard the resounding click of the lock sliding into place.

"Just lay down, Sirius," Orion groused. "You'll feel better after you wake up tomorrow."

"No," Sirius insisted. "Not...not yet. Dad, can't we talk for a bit?"

Orion rolled his eyes. "I am trying to be patient with you," he said flatly. He took several careful steps closer to Sirius who, lacking anywhere to run, soon found himself backed up against the wall. "And though it is a difficult task, I am committed to it. I have no intention of talking to you about anything and lousing up all the effort that has already been expended."

Sirius eyed his father's wand desperately; Orion now had it pointed directly at his chest. "And as much as I would love to spend some quality time with you," Orion said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "I have probably let you run amok for too long already. Now go lay down, Sirius Orion, or I will _make_ you."

Sirius refused to move. Partly out of stubbornness and partly because his limbs felt like they had frozen up.

"I can knock you out here or there, Sirius," Orion said. "The only difference is whether or not you hit your head on the way down. So, what's it going to be? Are you going to do what I say like a good boy or are you going to be waking up tomorrow with a headache?"

Sirius slid down the wall a ways, considering his options, of which he had very few.

"I swear, Sirius, if you make me stun here, I will leave your body in a crumpled heap on this floor and you'll wake up with a pretzel for a spine."

"Stun me?" Sirius asked in a small voice. Stunning wasn't exactly a pain-free process, and if he was stunned, then he stood no chance of waking back up on his own.

"Well I'd prefer not to have to," Orion said. " _I'd prefer it_ if you stopped cowering like a small child, got up from the floor and laid down on the bed like I asked you to. If you do this, then perhaps I could be persuaded to substitute the _hexing_ you so clearly deserve with a potion instead."

"I...uh..."

"Oh, Sirius don't stall. It's unbecoming. Now make up your mind." Orion once again pointed his wand to Sirius's chest. Slowly, he traced a path upwards until his wandpoint rested between his son's eyes. Sirius closed his eyes, his breathing shallow.

"Dad, please. I...I don't want to go to sleep again. Please, I'll do whatever you need."

Orion frowned. "What a disgraceful display you are," he said. "Though I would be lying if I said I didn't prefer you lie this, at least around me. It's a far sight better than the tantrums you used to always pitch. Just see that this...complacency of yours doesn't leave this house."

For a moment there was deep silence.

"Do you have something to say, Sirius?" Orion demanded.

"Yes, sir," Sirius whispered.

"That's better," Orion said. "Now are you going to do as I ask?"

"Yes," Sirius relented. He was starting to shake. This whole situation was bringing back echoes of a very unpleasant memory from the recesses of his mind. Sirius could see the walls of the situation closing in on him. He had no options left. "I'll go. Don't—don't curse me, I'll go."

Orion took a step back, lowering his wand at last. "And finally we get to the desired result. Are you happy to have wasted so much of my time?"

"No, sir," Sirius said. "I'm sorry."

Orion pulled Sirius to his feet and marched him to the bed. Sirius sat down, nervously gripping at his pant leg. He felt like a small child. What was going to become of him when he eventually woke back up? How much of his mind would he retain? Sirius had no doubt that his parents were responsible for his hazy memories. He was terrified to be at their mercy again, but the look in his father's eyes didn't leave much room for interpretation.

Orion left Sirius alone for a moment while he acquired the necessary sedative. Sirius was so hopeless that he didn't even entertain the thought of trying to escape. Orion returned to see Sirius exactly as he had left him. A curious expression fell over Orion's face.

"I had half expected to find you waiting behind the door to try and club me over the head with the desk lamp," Orion scoffed. "Here, drink this."

With a shaking hand, Sirius took the vial from his father. The potion was as flat and tasteless as water. Within moments, Sirius felt his vision fog over. A second later, he crumpled onto the bed, completely unresponsive.

* * *

Sirius's father spent the rest of the day in his study, drinking and poring over some casual paperwork. He was four glasses down by half past two and didn't notice the fireplace briefly roar to life. He also didn't notice his youngest son slink down the hallway and into Sirius's bedroom. The padlock on the door he undid easily with his wand, frowning. It was not a very complicated spell.

Regulus had expected Sirius to be in his room. Mother had said he would be home and resting...perhaps he had woken up? But that would not explain why his room was locked from the outside.

Regulus knew his father was home, and so he was extra cautious around the man's study. A sort reckless daring had seized him, though. And he was not going to return to school without seeing Sirius. He had sneaked out of his potions class to do this. He was determined.

He finally found Sirius in a spare bedroom, just when he was close to conceding that Sirius had gone out somewhere. Regulus hesitated. Should he wake Sirius up? Would his brother be mad with him? Timidly, Regulus reached out to touch Sirius's shoulder. A part of him felt almost giddy. Touching Sirius was like finally finding a tangible piece of his past…of the security that his life used to possess.

Only Sirius wasn't waking up, and it was making Regulus nervous.

"Sirius?" Regulus whispered, shaking his brother a little. Why was Sirius sleeping so soundly, was he ill?

"Sirius?" Regulus asked again, now pressing quite forcefully on his brother's shoulder. When Sirius still didn't wake, Regulus actually checked to make sure he was still breathing.

A cold feeling crept up Regulus's spine. Sirius wasn't asleep, he was unconscious. Regulus looked around the room. On the nightstand was an empty vial. Regulus took it to examine the remains. Something was wrong here. Had Sirius taken a sleep potion? Curious, Regulus began to look through the bedroom. He was still confused as to why Sirius was sleeping here in the first place. None of Sirius's possessions seemed to be in the room. In fact the room was barren. The Blacks hadn't been entertaining many guests lately.

Regulus was about to leave when he casually checked the desk drawer and found something: papers. Intrigued, he pulled them out. They were charts...in his mother's handwriting. Mental charts.

If Regulus was good at one class in school, it was Divination. He was more than familiar with the general layout of a magical mental landscape. These diagrams were intense, and much above the level Regulus had ever encountered, but he was definitely aware of what they were.

Something was clicking into place that Regulus didn't like. Earlier he had asked his mother if Sirius truly wanted to come home; the idea had seemed ludicrous to him. But here was the evidence right in front of him. With creeping horror, Regulus started to realize that Sirius had not returned to Grimmauld of his own free will and by the looks of it, Walburga Black was midway through an intense memory modification process.

Regulus felt a stab of anger at his parents. This was completely beyond unacceptable. Did his mother really think this would work? Sirius would never be tamed by measures like these. Regulus felt that if his parents were crazy to think a scheme like this would work. If anything, they were just risking brain damaging their oldest son.

He should stop this. Regulus couldn't allow this to happen, could he? It was wrong. It was wrong to keep Sirius here against his will. But what could Regulus really do? Sirius had already been here for a day, their mother had clearly already begun working on him. And maybe...maybe it would work. Sirius could be theirs again.

Regulus bit down hard on a fingernail. Did he want this or not? He should get going soon, he couldn't allow his father to catch him at home.

Something else clicked in Regulus's mind. Sirius had been placed in this room so that when he woke up, nothing in his surroundings would remind him of memories their parents no longer wanted him to have. Regulus stood up abruptly, an idea in his head. As quietly as possible, he dashed back to Sirius's room. Frantically he grabbed anything that looked useful—photographs, old letters, trinkets, anything small and relatively flat that looked like it might have meaning to Sirius. Five minutes later, he was dashing back to Sirius's side, a small, metal key in his hand. Blood pounding in his ears, Regulus opened his brother's shirt. Carefully, he slid the key into Sirius's inside pocket. Then he ran for his life.


End file.
